


Touch

by Aryas_aria



Series: Jonrya Week 2020 [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, Secret Relationship, a little smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:48:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22437415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aryas_aria/pseuds/Aryas_aria
Summary: Jon and Arya are reunited after she spends a year abroad in Bravos
Relationships: Jon Snow/Arya Stark
Series: Jonrya Week 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1612894
Comments: 7
Kudos: 54
Collections: Jonrya Week: January 2020





	Touch

"But one touch of your hand and God comes rushing back." - Lucrezia, _The Borgias_

***

As soon as the plane lands, Arya is the first one out of her seat, shuffling to get her carryon out of the overhead cabin and get the hell off the plane. But even her haste couldn’t stop her from falling victim to waiting for her many trunks in baggage claim.

“Miss Stark?” An older man with a kind smile makes her stop taping her foot and turn round.

“Yes?” she asks, taking in his airline uniform and cart.

“I’ve been instructed to help you with your bags Miss,” he answers politely.

“Oh,” she bites her lip, taking in his age once again, “really that’s ok, I can manage.”

“It’s no trouble at all miss, just doing my job, Mr. Targaryen was insistent it would be a lot and by the looks if it I can see he was right,” the man chuckles as her light gray suitcases start filtering in on the conveyor belt in an endless procession. He takes the largest one and easily sets in on the cart, so she just shrugs and helps him. It’s quicker this way, and soon she’s racing through the airport to get outside.

“Arya!” A shout from her right gets her attention and then she sees him. Jon. _Jon_. Had it really been a year? She takes in his beard, the scar around his eye from childhood, the gentleness in his grey eyes as they look at her and it makes her bite her lip painfully. She’s so happy he’s here, that she can touch him, that she’s back where she belongs—by his side.

He sweeps her in his arms, lifting her well off the ground while she gives his face soft kisses. “Jon!”

“Arya,” he smiles again, setting her down gently.

“All done sir,” the elderly man from before interrupts cheerily.

“Thank you,” Jon answers warmly, taking his wallet out to give the man a tip. He opens Arya’s door for her before going back inside the airport and finally it’s just her and Jon.

“Alright, spill it,” he says as they race down the high way to the Stark mansion. Jon’s Audi is fast and he loves nothing more than to speed but she wishes he would slow down for once. A year in Bravos has made her miss her family exceedingly, but she and Jon are never alone together anymore, even before she went to study abroad, and she just wants to savor this one on one time with him a bit longer. She thinks it’s ironic, the point of a relationship is to see a person more, not less. Of course, things were much simpler when Jon was just her cousin, but that can’t be helped, not now. Not when six months before she left, Aunt Lyanna had confided in Arya that she and uncle Rhaegar wished Jon to marry Margaery Tyrell of the Tyrell Flower empire. She’d been so dizzy with jealousy that she found Jon immediately and kissed him, and then she had fucked him, and then she had finally told him her feelings. He’d just smiled at her so sweetly, and said that he already knew. She’d asked him not to marry Margaery Tyrell and he’d said that he couldn’t well marry Margaery when he planned to marry her one day. That was the moment she had finally understood what all of Sansa’s love songs were trying to say.

“There’s nothing to spill,” she laughs as he musses her hair to get her attention. “You know everything, Jon, we’ve—we’ve talked every day since I left.”

“Would you go back?” He asks, a bit hesitant as they pull into the Stark manor and he parks his car. Tomorrow they will have an official welcome back party for her, all Sansa’s idea, but tonight is just a family dinner. Even still, the scene that greets her is overwhelming. There is her mother and father of course, Robb and Bran and Rickon and even Sansa rushing out of the house impatiently, Aunt Lyanna and Uncle Benjen racing to see which one of them can make it to her father’s side first as Uncle Rhaegar looks on fondly. There’s Jory Cassel and his daughter Beth, Old Nan and Hodor and Harwin too, at least a dozen other servants come to welcome her back. It makes her heart swell to see that she has been well and truly missed. She turns to Jon then, to joke about their eagerness perhaps but then she sees that he’s still clutching the wheel tightly, waiting on an answer from before.

“I would,” she smiles at him and his face falls ever so slightly. “But next time you’re coming with me. I want to show you the Titan’s statue and the ports and you have to meet the Sea lord, he’s a funny man and his fighters are—“ he kisses her. “What was that for?” She asks. Their family can’t see inside with the tint on his windows and the way he’s parked, but it still makes her anxious that he did that just now. No one is supposed to know, not until they can both find the words to tell Uncle Rhaegar and her father.

“Nothing,” he sighs, crestfallen again. She can’t comment on it before he unlocks his door and steps out. Bran yanks her own door so hard she thinks it might fall of while Rickon all but drags her out of the car. Always the tag team, those two.

“We missed you!” Rickon says breathlessly, far taller than he had been when she’d left.

“Me most of all,” Bran pipes up cheekily.

It’s an endless bout of hugs and kisses after that. A “welcome home baby sis,” from Robb, and complements about her jacket and hair before she and Sansa give each other a sweet hug (the year apart has done wonders to their relationship), warm embraces from Uncle Benjen and Rhaegar and a wild spin from Aunt Lyanna as she chants that her wolf child has come home sprinkled with “so glad to see you, mistress Arya,” and “Bravos has treated you well,” or “very happy to have to back Miss Arya,” from the servants before she finally reaches her parents. Her mother detangles herself from where her father is standing stoically, walking down a few steps to meet her.

“Arya,” her mother smiles, blue eyes watery from happiness as she captures wisps of Arya’s hair between her fingers, “I’ve missed you my girl.” She gives her mother a firm hug before she ascends the steps to her father.

He sweeps over her form in silence before a tear escapes his left eye. He gathers her up in his arms so strongly and she really and truly does cry now in her father’s arms. It feels good to be back here, in his embrace, where nothing in the world can harm her. “Welcome home pup,” he whispers in her ears, still clutching her tightly.

“Oh daddy,” she whispers back softly. Too soon, Sansa is pulling her away to go inside as the servants take over to unload her luggage.

Sansa takes her all the way up to her room, not stopping and refusing to be deterred until they are both safely locked away. “I know you’ve heard it a million times already, but we missed you,” Sansa offers a smile, getting comfortable on the bed as Arya strips to take a shower.

“I have,” she laughs lightly, “but it’s nice to be missed.”

“Jon missed you most of all…” she lets the sentence hang and Arya tries not to tense. “I mean, I knew you two were close but, god it’s like he wasn’t even alive. Margaery was crushed you know, I mean he never really entertained her or anything but her grandmother really wanted the match and for a while it seemed Aunt Lya and Uncle Rha did too.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Her throat feels dry and she feels exposed as the air hits her naked skin.

“I just wanted you to know.”

“Know what?”

“That you don’t have to worry about Margaery anymore,” Sansa says as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Why would I worry about her?” And really, she does try not to bite her lip.

Sansa gives her a soul searching look before relenting. “No reason, I suppose. Anyways,” she lifts herself off the bed to retrieve something from her pocket,” I thought you’d like to spend some time with Jon. I bought you two tickets to the drive in movie tonight. They’re showing _Gaslight_ and I know it’s your favorite.”

“Thank you, Sansa. That was—very thoughtful of you,” she flounders a bit because this thing between her and Sansa, being nice to each other, is still relatively new, only two or three years in the making.

“Of course,” she says, burrowing down in Arya’s bed to wait for her as Arya goes into the bathroom to shower. “Like I said, he missed you most of all. I thought it could be fun for you two to catch up.”

***

Dinner was a mini feast, consisting of no less than five course for Winterfell’s darling. And though she isn’t one to cry often anymore, she did tear up a bit as barley and venison soup, then lamprey pie and roasted swan and carrots and mushrooms, finished off with blueberry tarts, all of her favorites. Finally, she and Jon had slipped away as everyone else went into the living room to relax. And though Rickon started to put up a fuss, Bran and Robb quieted him down before anyone else could object.

It takes her exactly one second after he parks the car to pounce on him. She leans over the gear shift and kisses his lips hard, unrelenting until he’s kissing her back just as hard. Deeper and deeper they seem to be drowning in each other, but it still isn’t enough. Madly, he tries to pull her on top of him but it results in an incessantly honked horn, much to the annoyance of the people flittering past his car to get back from the concession stand and into their own cars.

She laughs and he blushes before they both try to maneuver themselves into the backseat. It doesn’t work, so they both slip out of the car before shuffling into the backseat. The movie starts as he looks at her, not touching at first, just appreciating her. She wishes there was something she could say to describe how good he can make her feel just by looking at her like that—like she’s just right for him, like she hangs the stars.

Slowly, he lifts his hand, using his right index finger to trace the line of her left cheek, then her right. It makes her smile and he traces the curve of her lips then. His finger doesn’t stop there, choosing instead to go lower until he drifts over her chin and then the length of her neck all the way until it snags on the V of her shirt, just above her breasts. He slides the finger back up and over to her right shoulder before slipping the sleeve and bra strap down firmly. He traces a path back toward her other shoulder, delicately stroking her collarbone before doing the same to the sleeve and bra strap on her left side. She wants to kiss him, but he’s immobilized her with his gaze and that one little finger and the way it leaves goosebumps in its wake on her skin. Finally, he takes her chin in his hand, gripping it firmly, almost a little roughly before tilting her head up ever so slowly until she is forced to stare in his darkening grey eyes. “I don’t think I could have survived much longer without you here,” the words hit her lips mere seconds before his own lips follow. And there it is again, that need and fire burning low in her belly until she thinks it will devour her.

His hands are faster after that kiss. He tries to pull the rest of her shirt and bra down before she gives up, breaks the kiss and properly takes them off then does the same to him. It’s hard not to touch him after that. Her hands move faster than her mind as she glides her palms over his chest and back, pulling him closer, closer to her. _Jon_ she wants to say _love me, hold me, squeeze me_. But only whimpers come out as he grips her hair tightly to keep her in place.

“I need you, Arya, love I need you now,” he says, face absolutely flushed, cheeks red and chest heaving, and she knows she must look the same. She pulls the buckle of his belt mere moments after his plea is made as he unzips her jeans and together they shed each layer of clothing until they are both tightly pressed to each other in the backseat of his car.

He tries to lay her down gracefully but fails miserably, bumping his head on the ceiling, a shocked “ow” tumbling out of his mouth. She laughs and he pouts at her until she takes his face and brings it down until she can kiss him all over. “God,” he says, eyes closed but looking like he is in heaven, “how did I last 365 days without your kisses?”

“The same way I lasted without feeling you inside me,” she sighs. That comment is all it takes to get them back on track as he carefully slips into her heat. A year without sex makes her grunt a little at the intrusion, but soon she wraps her legs tighter around him, forcing him to go deeper until she can finally feel complete. He grips her thighs tightly, first thrusting slow and deep before neither one of them can live with the pace. “Harder,” she pants into his ear, “harder, Jon, faster, please, please, please. I missed you, please. Make me feel good again.” Her words and his moans fill the car as they both come closer to release. He takes one hand from off her hip to grip her throat and it sets her over the edge. She comes in low moans and incessant clenching around him that makes him follow soon after.

The air in the car is stifling after that, but she doesn’t want him to move off of her. She hugs him tightly to her until he becomes soft inside her, pressing the side of her face into his neck so snuggly. He kisses her temple before sliding out of her and sitting upright. “God,” he sighs, looking down on her naked form, still sprawled out before him, “I never want to stop touch you.” As if to prove his point, he brings that troublesome finger back to her lips. Brazenly, she sucks it into her mouth, delighting in the groan he gives.

“Then don’t,” she responds.

“Then let’s tell them, our fathers, tonight,” he looks so hopeful at her as she dresses herself to the best of her ability in silence.

“Okay,” she says, feeling ten feet tall and like she can conquer to world in that moment. “Okay,” she smiles softly at the look he gives her then.

They don’t stay at the drive in long after that, both hoping out of the backseat and into the front of the car at light speed, racing back down to Winterfell to break the news to their fathers. But the house is silent as they approach, the only lights one are the groundskeeper, and even the servants don’t seem to stir when they slip into the front door. It makes the anxiety build for both of them, but they reluctantly agree to let it wait until morning. He gives her one final, searing kiss before they break apart, him going to his unofficial room in the mansion and her to her own.

***

She’s having a pleasant dream, or more like a memory as she sleeps. Jon’s hands are on her again, his lips following in their path as they lay on fresh sheets and the breeze from the window does nothing to quell the heat in their hotel room.

“Arya Lyarra Stark!” Sansa whisper shouts, shoving her sister awake for good measure.

One look at Sansa’s frantic blue eyes, and Arya knows she isn’t going to get to go to back to that blissful dream anytime soon. “What time is it?” She asks groggily.

“6 in the morning,” Sansa waves a dismissive hand, her silk pajamas crumpled a little. “That’s hardly the concern here.”

“Ok,” she yawns, rubbing her eyes and sitting up slowly, “so what is the concern?”

“ _THIS_ ,” Sansa thrusts her iPhone into Arya’s hands impatiently. It takes a moment for her eyes to adjust to brightness of the screen, but when she does, horror grips her. Sansa’s twitter is open to Jeyne Poole’s page, a series of tweets with pictures showing Arya and Jon last night at the drive in. The pictures show a lustful Jon and Arya both slipping out of the back seat that Jeyne has captioned “So this is how you watch a movie? From the BACKSEAT? Hmmm….” The next picture is just of the car, nothing special save for the caption that points out that Jon and Arya have been in said backseat for almost thirty minutes. The last picture, though, really is a piece of work. Jon and Arya are both stepping out of the backseat, both looking properly fucked with clothes askew and lovely Jeyne captioning, “A full hour after the movie has started ladies and gents, very classy.” To cap it all off, she shares a snap of Jon’s Audi speeding out of there soon after the third picture was taken, a final “guess they got what they came for lol” topping off the whole affair.

“Oh my god,” Arya breathes. She’s seething and the first thing she wants to do is beat Jeyne bloody, but she knows it won’t solve anything. Even if she got Jeyne to take it down now, news like this would spread like wildfire.

“So that’s all you have to say?” Sansa peers at her curiously.

“Are you upset with me?” Arya asks, thrown off by the fact that Sansa seems to be very calm right now.

“Not about being with Jon, no. That is, if you two are dating and this wasn’t just a hook up?” She lifts a delicate red eyebrow.

“No. No! Jon and I… we’ve been dating for a year and a half,” Arya sighs dejectedly. She feels dirty for keeping a secret from her family so long.

Sansa lets out a low whistle. “Well I am surprised at that. I mean, I knew you two liked each other, but I thought it wouldn’t happen until after you came back and both realized how miserable you’ve been without the other.”

“Wait,” Arya squints her eyes. “How long have you known I like Jon?”

“Honestly?” She asks and Arya nods, “you’ve both always loved each other just a little bit more than everyone else. I think maybe when you started dating that Jaqen guy your freshman year of college. You’d had boyfriends before but he was different, and well, we all could tell, Jon especially. I knew something was going on when you two started spending even more time together than you did before you left, but I thought it was just… I dunno… the beginning of you both admitting your feelings, not the culmination.” Arya processes this in silence for a moment before her sister can drag her back to the present. “Anyway, that isn’t the point right now. Jeyne, she…well I called her as soon as I saw she posted it and she said she’d take it down, but it’s been what, almost ten minutes now and it’s still there!” Sansa exclaims, refreshing her phone to see if the tweets would disappear.

“I don’t think it really matters, actually,” Arya begins to say as both their phones chime, a Popsugar headline “Stark and Targaryen? Fire and Ice _do_ go together it seems,” closely followed by a People News article as well, “Targaryen Men seem to love those Stark Girls.” Arya groans and falls back on the bed dramatically. She and Jon were going to their fathers last night, why did Jeyne just have to ruin things with this?

Sansa pets her hair sympathetically. “We need to find Jon and the you two are going to tell father and Uncle Rha right now before this gets even more out of hand. Hopefully, they’ll be able to get the stories pulled soon.”

“What about Jeyne?” They both slip out of her room on silent feet, padding to Jon’s room at the other end of the hall.

“Leave Jeyne to me,” Sansa replies, slipping her arm through Arya’s.

When they open the door to Jon’s room, neither can contain their surprise at finding not only Jon but also Robb, Bran and Rickon there. Jon is pulling his hair while Bran and Rickon appear to be trying to soothe him. Robb is texting on his phone frantically and cursing low under his breath.

“Arya,” Jon rasps, looking thoroughly distressed as she and Sansa slip in. He pulls her away from Sansa and into his arms. “Are you alright?” he asks into her hair.

“I’m fine,” she replies to his chest, winding her hands into his shirt.

“San, can’t you talk to Jeyne, see if she’ll take the pictures down yeah?” Robb asks, still furiously texting on his phone.

“I’ve already tried asking nicely. I’m giving her two more minutes before the threats start,” Sansa goes over to Robb as they both bend their heads towards their phones, conspiring.

“Threats won’t help anything,” Bran says sadly, “the stories already out.” He pats Arya’s arm gently.

“It’s fine, really,” she says, feeling stronger than she feels. “In fact, I think this is finally a good enough reason to give Jeyne what she deserves.”

“Are you ok with this? Truly?” Jon asks, cupping her face and looking at her through distressed eyes.

She takes her own hands and clasps on to where his writs have her head held firmly in place, drawing circles on his skin. “I would have liked to tell Father and Uncle Rhaegar differently, maybe over breakfast or in the study. I would have liked to make a sickly sweet Instagram post and update my Facebook status before an almost sex tape of us got released,” he laughs and she smiles at him, “but it doesn’t matter. As long as you’re by my side, Jeyne and the paparazzi can go to hell.”

He kisses her tenderly, a wave of relief settling over his features at her declaration.

“Well that’s lovely, “Robb intones, “but as far as I’m concerned, a Stark heiress and the successor to the Targaryen Energy Empire will not be involved in a scandal like this.”

“Your honor is appreciated nephew, but I must remind you that it has already happened,” Aunt Lyanna says breezily, standing in the doorway as if she doesn’t have a care in the world. “Or need I remind you that when I married Rhaegar it was far more scandalous that this?”

They all stammer at her whirlwind entrance and the fact that she just so casually spoke of the “Robert Affair” as the family had dubbed it, as if it wasn’t the most forbidden subject in the family, even more scandalous that when great great grandpa Stark all but lost the family fortune.

“Now, Ned and Rha want Jon in the study now. Arya and Sansa, come with me.”

***

After Sansa delicately reminds Jeyne of a few not so pleasant things the girl would be subjecting herself to and gets the tweets deleted, and mother calls in a favor with her old friend Mr. Baelish to get the stories pulled, Arya finds herself inside her father’s study. Jon is still there and so is his father.

“You wanted to see me daddy?” She asks, feeling like a girl of twelve, and not the fierce woman she has become. She shoots Jon a nervous glance who gives her a bashful little smile.

“Yes,” he says evenly. “I was just wondering when you were both going to tell us the news? Surely you did not mean for Jeyne Poole to be the one to break it to the world.”

“Of course not! We were, we were going to tell you last night when we came home but you were sleep and then we waited and Sansa woke me up with this and then—“”

“That’s enough Arya, I’m not angry.”

“You’re not?” she asks surprised? “you’re not upset with me and Jon?”

“No,” Ned says simply, watching as she goes to stand by Jon and lace their fingers together.

“And you uncle Rhaegar, you’re not upset either?”

“Why on earth would I be upset? My son has the exact same good taste in women as I do,” he smiles.

“While we don’t condone getting caught in your backseat antics,” Ned stares them both down, “your mothers have assured us that it has all been taken care of.”

She breathes a sigh of relief, almost giddy with how weightless she feels. She and Jon are free to love each other, and it’s the most wonderful feeling, to know that even their fathers see how right they are for each other, that their family approves. She looks to him to find that he is already looking at her. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he whispers, sliding his hands up to cup her face gently. He touches his lips to her own and all is right with the world.

**Author's Note:**

> I have this idea that Jon and Arya love a good murder mystery, so Gaslight seemed like a good choice. And I took a break from the sad endings to write some fluff, so Sansa is a perfect sister and Rhaegar isn't so bad in this, enjoy!


End file.
